


step two, rest upon my shoulder

by dykejaskiers



Series: step with me [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Introspection, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykejaskiers/pseuds/dykejaskiers
Summary: Darcy’s in the middle of writing up a report on the latest sitcom episode of Wanda’s wish fulfillment – her life’s certainly not gotten anylessstrange since the appearance of different worlds and dimensional whatnots – when she feels the smallest of thuds against her shoulder. She turns her head marginally to look, and confirms what she’d suspected – Monica’s dosed off, leaning her temple against Darcy’s arm.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Monica Rambeau
Series: step with me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149479
Comments: 17
Kudos: 206





	step two, rest upon my shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> weeell i couldn't resist not writing darcy pov continuation, no matter how short. plot? don't know her. continuation after this? who's to say
> 
> title still from mika's "step with me" 'cause honestly what a sapphic song, my tumblr's still currenly @ dykejaskiers, and also everyone who commented/kudo'ed/read the previous fic is precious and i love you x

Darcy’s in the middle of writing up a report on the latest sitcom episode of Wanda’s wish fulfillment – her life’s certainly not gotten any _less_ strange since the appearance of different worlds and dimensional whatnots – when she feels the smallest of thuds against her shoulder. She turns her head marginally to look, and confirms what she’d suspected – Monica’s dosed off, leaning her temple against Darcy’s arm. Her breathing’s steady and slow, face relaxed for once. Darcy blinks down at the sight for a moment, taken aback by both the peacefulness of Monica and the amount of trust she’s silently showing. Darcy doubts she’s considered an especially threatening person, unless jabs and snarky rhetoric count, but still. Monica’s entire life was upheaved less than a few weeks ago, and she’s a member of S.W.O.R.D, a _captain_ – an actual one. That she’d let her guard down around anyone astonishes Darcy. That it’s _Darcy_ astonishes her only slightly more.

And well, Darcy's only human. If the warmth of Monica's body against her makes her breath catch and leaves her feeling tongue-tied, it's only expected.

She glances at the clock on the lower corner of her laptop. 7AM. A reasonable hour to catch a nap, Darcy thinks. She doesn’t think Monica slept at all the night before – she’d been pacing around and mumbling under her breath when Darcy had disappeared to get her mandatory three hours of rest, and had been having a staring contest with Jimmy’s whiteboard when she’d gotten back.

Admirable work ethic and/or obsession aside, Darcy’s a little worried. She knows firsthand what stress like that does to you - she's shocked she _didn't_ go into early cardiac arrest when getting her degrees, and that wasn't even about something like, oh, _the safety of the universe_. Thinking back to what Monica had said before, about the Blip, and what she hadn’t said – about Maria, Captain Marvel, everything else – Darcy can’t help the way her heart aches, just a bit. It's not pity, she's just... worried.

She finds her eyes straying back to Monica, away from the open and unfinished document and the incessant blinking of the cursor. She’s, well. Darcy’s a simple woman, really, and has never shied away from admitting when she finds someone hot. Monica’s beautiful, duh, and Darcy still feels a little star-struck in her presence; though less so now that she’s seen her curse Hayward to hell and back and accidentally spill hot coffee over her shirt. It’s been weird to separate her idea of Captain Rambeau from this Monica, but it’s getting easier. The way she’s now lightly snoring helps.

Darcy reaches for her third coffee today, trying not to jostle Monica awake. The memory of her facing off with Wanda replays in her mind. She hadn’t been scared. Apprehensive, maybe – hopefully with some sense of self-preservation, though Darcy’s skeptical because God help if anyone she knows have that much sense – but not scared.

Not in the way Hayward is. Hayward’s reactive and angry and, if Darcy allows herself to armchair diagnose, projecting like crazy. It didn’t go unnoticed that Wanda had taken Vision’s body back from where he’d been dissected like a malfunctioning toaster.

Monica seems to empathise. Darcy heard about Maria Rambeau’s passing years back, obviously – even in the middle of the general chaos around the world, it forced everything to a pause, even if just for a moment. Within their circles, at least. For Darcy, it’s been years – for Monica, it’s been, what? Weeks? And Darcy never even met Maria.

She finishes the coffee with a sip that burns her tongue a little. To come back to work from that, to be met with Wanda’s grief, a colossal reminder of her own that's constantly blinking at them all with red and blistering anger… Darcy’s surprised Monica’s still walking around, much less getting shit done.

So yeah, maybe she’s crushing. Looks aside, Monica’s incredible. Not otherworldly like Thor had been to Jane, but entirely human and entirely too stubborn and entirely beautiful.

How’s Darcy supposed to work with her for the foreseeable future when the way Monica smiles at her turns her insides into jelly? Jimmy’s not helping either, with the way he shoots knowing looks Darcy’s way and coughs deliberately whenever Darcy finds herself distractedly staring after Monica. As if he's one to talk. She's been slowly extracting Jimmy's stories about Scott Lang, and if she thought Jane was obvious in _her_ pining, well, hoo-boy. 

Darcy forces her attention back to the report, but she can’t bring herself to keep writing. It’s sad, really, to recount the ways in which Wanda’s trying to hold on to… whatever it is she’s holding on to. Her family? A normal life? Hayward’s an idiot, labeling her a terrorist. Hayward’s an idiot in every other way, too. Maybe she could put that in her report and call it a day – or, night. Morning? Time’s become an abstract concept. Anything can happen at any time. Wanda’s sitcom clearly doesn’t care about TV time slots.

There’s a small sound from her left that brings Darcy to the present. She turns to look in time to see Monica blink her eyes open. She looks confused for a few seconds, frowning, before realisation kicks in and she sits up, leaning away with wide eyes. Darcy definitely doesn’t miss the contact. Not at all.

“Shit,” Monica says, eyes darting around. Her gaze settles on Darcy with a somewhat sheepish look. “Sorry, I didn’t realise– or, mean to– well, anyway, sorry.”

“No worries,” Darcy says. Her voice is steady and definitely _not_ airy. “I did offer my shoulder for a cat nap, remember?”

Monica smiles, her posture relaxing. Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “I guess you did,” she allows. “How long was I out?”

Darcy glaces back at the clock. “Like, fifteen minutes, tops. You missed pretty much nothing.” She pauses, wonders if they’re at a stage where she can offer friendly advice. Doesn’t matter, she decides – she’s going to, anyway. “You should get some actual sleep, you know. Like, in a bed. For hours, maybe.”

Monica turns her head away, biting her lower lip. Darcy eyes the movement, mouth a little dry. “Yeah, I know. It’s just…” She spreads her hands. “There’s all _this_ going on. And Hayward's... Well. Sleeping feels like a waste of time.”

Darcy gets it, she really does. But the exhausted slump of Monica’s shoulders makes _her_ feel tired. She clears her throat. “Well, with the authority invested in me as a doctor, I’m gonna go out on a limb and speculate that _not_ sleeping isn’t exactly beneficial to you on the field.”

“As a doctor?” Monica asks, amused. She’s leaning her elbow on Darcy’s desk, chin on her palm, looking somewhere far away. Remembering something, probably. 

Darcy shrugs. “Astrophysics is basically the same thing as an M.D.”

Her words draw out a small laugh from Monica. Darcy’s heart does it’s little flips and stutters at the sound, both to her annoyance and amusement. She should be past schoolyard crushes. But then again… Monica Rambeau. Like, hello?

“Fair enough,” Monica concedes. She blinks, and returns back from wherever her mind had wandered off to. “I’m getting coffee. You want anything?”

Caffeine’s no good for Darcy’s nerves, especially not when she’s been sleeping so little, and with the stress of the whole Westview Anomaly-slash-Wanda-slash-her love life-slash everything else. “Sure,” she finds herself saying, ignoring the way a small, rational part of her mind sighs in disappointment. “You know what, I’ll come with you. This report’s going nowhere, and it’s making me depressed, anyways.”

Monica holds out her hand to help Darcy up. Darcy takes it, and deliberately doesn’t think about the way it makes her insides twist.

She can sort out her own emotions when they’re done saving the world, again.


End file.
